Going Back to Normal
by Loregold
Summary: High school is full of drama and changes and why would South Park High be any different? For Stan, all he wants is some sort of stability in his drunken life, but why would South Park allow that? Angst/romance; Stenny
1. What were you thinking?

Despite the warm sun that beat down upon the small mountain town, South Park was still relatively cold. Which was a normal start to another day of high school. The four- no three of the boys met up at the bus stop, which was another normal occurrence.

Well, it wasn't _normal_ at first, but over the months, it has, with the way things have been changing for Stans' Gang.

Cartman had a ginormous growth spurt, and while he was still on the heavier side, he wasn't as overweight as he was in high school. Something he like to lord over everyone since he was officially the tallest of them all.

Though Kyle was a close second, getting a mix of his mother and dad. His fathers height and his mothers attitude; well you could say that Kyles' Jersey side was showing more frequently.

With that, their rivalry grew, the smallest things setting them off. To quote Kyle 'that fat fucker needs to get his gigantic head out of his rotund ass to see the light of day properly. Doubt his overstuffed ego will ever let him do that though.'

Stan on the other hand, hadn't grown much like his friends. He was more stocky and lean from his years playing sports. All his muscles were built to play football in the fall and baseball in the summer. The noirette barely cracked 5' 11" so he was the main runner, the main scorer; the soccer team really wanted him to join their team but he really enjoyed baseball and football.

And that was something Cartman always joked about, which is when Stan always looked for Kenny. Blue eyes sought out the blonde, but he's been missing for months.

Stan wasn't sure when Kenny fully disappeared from the group, but he did know it was a slow fade. First he didn't show up to the bus stop, but he'd be there during lunch or vice versa. Then it was every few days that he wouldn't show up at all.

Stan missed the perverted blonde, but he had figured he was just needing space, but the month now that he was gone, it hurt. Sure they had a few classes together and their lockers were fairly close, but he always slipped out before he could talk to him or disappeared beforehand.

Stan once brought it up to the group and Cartman replied with a brisk 'Dude, that poor ass probably got too jealous to hang with us people who have actual money,' and waved it away dismissively, going back to talking about whatever it was.

Kyles' answer was far more eloquently put, 'Maybe he's going through something and just wants to be alone?' which very well could be true, but why would he shut us so completely out.

"I just thought we were closer friends is all," Stan grumbled as Kyle patted his back in silent support.

Today however, as they boarded the bus, Stan was quieter than normal, the bickering between Kyle and Cartman was heavier than the usual and all Stan wanted was to find out what was going on with Kenny. His blue eyes sought out any sign of the blonde, but he could only see Tweek sitting with Craig, the two still going strong even after their break up back in middle school while they tried to find out if they were just getting comfortable with each other or if they still had feelings for each other. And Butters, the quiet blonde still as nervous as ever, but Stan faintly remembered that he and Kenny were really close so maybe he would know what was going on with their friend.

"Damn Stan, you're still pinning after Kenny?" Cartmans latest jab got the noirettes' attention and glaring at him, Marsh turned to face him full on, knees clashing against Kyles lanky frame.

"Really Cartman? Is it so bad to be worried for him? I haven't heard from him in two months and he's avoiding all of us," Stan challenged, daring Cartman to say anything against him.

"It's super gay of you," he shrugged and smirked a bit. "Considering what he's apparently been doing behind our backs."

That gave Stan pause. What was Cartman getting at?

"Check the message board," he insisted, and both Kyle and Stan pulled out their phones.

Going to the South Park message boards, the top four articles were all about the gun running ring operating in the town and Mysterion was helping them.

"What…" Stan breathed, skimming the page to get the jest of what was going on.

"He's still playing superhero?" Kyle quietly questioned as he read the article fully, both the redhead and noirettes' minds racing a mile a minute.

While Kyles' was probably more confused than anything, Stans' was wondering why the fuck Kenny would do something so _stupid_?

Just what was Kenny thinking?!


	2. Communication Issues

First class together: fail

Hallway: fail

Lunch: Failing

The noirette was starting to feel both defeated and angry at both himself and Kenny.

Why wouldn't the blond talk to him?! He just really wanted to have a nice chat with him, after telling him how fucking STUPID he was being. Rapping his fingers on the lunch table, his blue eyes searching the cafeteria for any sightings of orange.

Sure Kenny didn't have the usual fur lined hood, but he did wear a thick scarf of the same color. But he couldn't seem to spot the blond anywhere, not sitting with anybody nor by himself. He was nowhere to be seen in the cafeteria.

Searching the furthest recesses of his mind, he tried to figure out what else he could possibly do to reach out and hopefully talk to Kenny. He really missed the blonde, though not a single person knew what he was truly feeling inside.

Maybe he could write a note? Well, that would be pretty freaking gay wouldn't it? Not to mention that Kenny would probably ignore it. But it was a lot safer than the only other idea that ran through his mind.

Get himself in trouble and have Mysterion save him.

If it wasn't for the fact that he ignored everything else; texts, calls and even himself, he would never have even dreamt of doing such a thing.

The Kyle side of him, the side that had absorbed the red heads many, _many_ rants of how their ideas were so 'God damn fucking stupid', was telling him just that.

But what else could he do?! Repeated over, and over, as he tried to rip the thoughts out with his short black hair.

All other manner of reaching out was failing and he apparently still _LOVED_ being a fucking superhero. If he couldn't catch Kenny today, at all, he was going to have to resort to drastic measures. Though he figured he could attempt the note, no matter how gay it seemed.

Thankfully, Kyle and Cartman were in yet another shouting match, not looking at Stan as he pulled out a sheet of paper to quickly jot down a note for him. Something simple and to the point.

 _Ken,_

 _We saw the article about you still being a superhero. Now, I'm really fucking worried for you and everything else that I guess is going on._

 _Can we please talk?_

 _Stan_

A few minutes were left before the lunch bell rang, so it wouldn't look weird for the jock to be leaving the room early. As he eased his way through the slowly forming crowd, he made his way to the empty hallway that housed both his and McCormicks' lockers.

What he wasn't expecting to be there, was Kenny, shutting his locker after grabbing his books.

"Ah, Kenny," a startled gasp escaping with those two words.

If the jump was anything to go by, Kenny was equally as surprised as he peeked over his shoulder with wide hazel eyes; a shade that Stan had almost forgotten existed.

The warmth of hope that had started to fill Stan as he took a step closer to the blonde was swiftly squashed as fast as it had started to build as Kenny turned and headed away down the hallway.

Defeat weighing heavy in his heart, crushing his lungs and dragging his shoulders down, Stan limply made his way to the abandoned locker and slipped the note into it through a grate. Shuffling the two steps to his locker and switching his books out after resting his forehead against the cool metal.

Toxic thoughts started to slither and creep into his mind, barely having the will to push them away as he eyed the water bottle in the corner.

He had been doing really well for the past week but this, all of this, had started to take its toll on him. He figured since this was the first time he'd be drinking at school for about a week, it wouldn't be a huge problem. Right?

As he shook, he caved and took a sip, the pleasant burn relaxing him to the bones.

Heading to the next class, ready to face the rest of the day with the pleasant buzz.

Once he was home, he looked at his phone after tossing things on his bed. The buzz had worn off by his last class and he really wanted to drink some more but he had other things to worry about. Like getting his algebra homework done and making himself dinner.

Sure, his father was home but when he had walked through the door, he had noticed that his father was already drunk off his ass.

A hard tremble ran down his spine, he really hoped that this didn't become like him; he _wouldn't_ become like him.

Curling on his bed, he started to do his homework but the numbers and letters were blurring together. Tapping the pen on the books as he tried to focus but he just couldn't. With the looming night time trek coming to mind, he started to over think.

What if something happened and Mysterion wasn't there to protect him? What if he died and no one found him? What if Kenny just watched?

Fingers tangling in his hair, he tugged hard, trying to relieve the pressure that was building behind his eyes.

No, no crying. He didn't need to cry. Nope. Everything would be fine.

It would work out. It had to.

Slipping from his bed, Stan made his way downstairs, thinking food would help even if the stench of booze was strong due to his fathers' habits.

It was just a simple sandwich, but going through the motions was mind numbing enough that his mantra of 'its fine. It will be fine. Kenny would talk to him and things would go back to normal' finally sank in after the 50th time of repeating it.

And that's all for today folks. I cut it off here so it didn't drag on and on, so the next part should be up fairly quickly, though I do work around 6 days the next two weeks, so we'll have to see

Go ahead and check out my personal tumblr if you'd like at: themindoflore

Let me know what you think! I haven't written fanfiction in many, many years


	3. Is this talking?

It was nearly 10 pm when Stan finally made his way towards the west part of town, towards Skeeters bar where all the rowdy groups hung out.

"Man," Stan breathed nervously, starting to second guess his decision

Would Kenny actually save him? Would Kenny even be around this area this time of night?

Holding the jacket tight around him, he kept his eyes peeled as he walked, trying to stay on his toes. The street lights where dirty, barely letting off any light to illuminate the path and the moon was barely a crescent so it was no help either.

Cursing under his breath, Stan paused as he cast his shaky vision around. Bouncing in his worn out tennis shoes as he steeled his nerve; continuing on his way.

"Hey kid, you seem to know your way around this town," a sleazy voice sounding beside him, clamminess wrapping its way around him.

Instincts kicked in, jerking away and stumbling over the sloshy ground. "What the-" he stammered as the man snickered and walked firmly forward towards Stan.

"Want a job kid?" The man offered, Stan straightening and glaring at the foreign male.

"No," he stated firmly, the older male grabbing Stan by the jacket, his reach longer than anticipated and shoved him into the wall.

"Now I thought we could do this the easy way," he sneered, leaning close.

Tears pricked his eyes as his nose burned from the stench of cigarettes, alcohol and not brushing in God knows how long.

"Too bad," a sharp jab hit the older males side, sending him rocketing off to the other side with nails dragging against the poor noirettes neck.

"He said no," the raspy voice sounded as he stood in front of Stan, glowering at the hunched over, infuriated male.

"God-fuck," he cursed, stumbling away into the bar, probably getting his friends to come and back him up.

"Let's go," the gloved hand wrapped around Stans numb wrist and started a quick pace back the way Stan came.

The words were lodged somewhere between what he wanted to say and actually coming out, all he could do was stare at the back of the purple hood that somehow contained the messy blonde locks that he was sure still resided on top of the freckled, gap toothed male.

"You should be safe here," drew him from his thoughts and he looked around.

The road was far better lite than the one they met each other on, the rows of houses lining both sides informed him that he was in a more residential part of South Park.

It wasn't until his eyes landed on Butters house that he realized they were on his street.

"Oh, thank-" Mysterion was already walking away before Stan could thank him.

"Wait- for fuck, please wait," Stan cried, taking a step forward and reaching out, as if he would be able to physically make the smaller male stay and talk to him for once.

For once, Kenny actually paused, the blonde didn't say anything, but he wasn't running away.

Letting out a small breath, Stan straightened to his meager full height and fiddled with the hem of his jacket. "Can we talk?" He whispered softly, nibbling on his lip.

"About?" The cold voice was something he never once thought he'd ever hear.

"Whatever is bothering you? Why you left? Why you're ignoring me?" Stan rushed out and raised his eyes to look at Mysterion, who was still staring straight ahead.

"It's none of-" he started to say and Stan rushed ahead and grabbed at Mysterions' shoulder to turn him around. Instead, the smaller male pulled away and glared at Stan, straightening to glare at Stan.

"It's none of your concern," his tone icy to the ears.

"Yes, it is! You're my friend and I want to help however I can! I just-we thought you just needed space that's why we didn't stop you," Stan stumbled on the last sentence. "If I had even any idea that we'd end up like this, I would've tried harder!" voice warbling between octives as he barely got the words out.

"Good bye Stan," Kenny's voice unchanging and the sinking feeling of defeat lodging in his chest.

"I miss you Kenny," he whispered out, but let the faux superhero walk away.


	4. Drunk Text

All he wanted to do was drink.

And not just drink, but drink until he blacked out.

Shivering as he entered his unwelcoming home, the lingering stench made it that much harder to ignore the screaming in his veins.

The ache to dull the crushing depression with the disgustingly pleasant burn of alcohol.

He went back upstairs and sat n his bed, drawing his knees to his chest and giving in. Hiccupping as he just let it out.

At some point he fell asleep, awakening with a heavy groan from the poor position he had passed out in.

As he pressed the heels of his hands against his sore eyes, he rubbed them gently before seeing it was 3 am. On his phone were a few messaged from Kyle, bitching about Cartman as usual and the same from Cartman.

And one from an unknown number with a single question.

'Safe?'

It took a few seconds for the short circuiting to catch up to what it meant before he nervously sent back something. Preparing himself to never hear from him again.

"Yeah, I'm safe. Thank you."

He normally wasn't one to type out full words, but this wasn't just any other occurrence. Tossing his phone onto the nightstand, he went to get changed, washing his face and brushing his teeth before heading back in and finding his notification light flashing.

Again, it was from the suspected male number, against with the one word answer.

'Good.'

While it was more than what he had expected, it wasn't anything life changing either.

And the little care cut deeply.

His thoughts already dark and depressive; twisted towards the vindictive blade.

Going over to his bookcase, he knelt down and reached towards the back corner, pulling out a small bronze flask.

Uncapping, he let the sharp liquid splash down his throat in a few hearty gulps before flopping back onto his bed. The buzz building swiftly and blocking his judgement.

Looking at the phone and 2 messages, he decided to respond. 'Qjy di y u Kikre?'

While it didn't make hardly any sense to its receiver, for a long time, it made perfect sense to the drunk sender.

Why didn't Kenny like him anymore?

Stan woke the next morning with a headache, but instead of taking the medication to shoo it away, or for his depression, he picked up the bottle in his nightstand and took another long swig.

It wouldn't get him drunk, but it did add a pleasant buzz to deal with his day.

All through the rest of the mundane routine, not once did he check his phone. The pulsating 4 messages begging to be checked were ignored in favor of going to the bus stop.

"Hey Kyle," Stan cheerfully greeted, both the red head and brunette looked over, Carman blowing him off but Kyle knew something was off.

"Hey Stan, how're you doing?" He asked timidly, shifting nervously as he looked at the noirette full on.

"Not too bad, you?" the Jew frowned more, firmly stepping forward and liftting the smaller up to smell his breath.

"Whoa-"

"You're drunk," he stated firmly.

"Buzzed," Stan corrected, as if that would make much of a difference.

"You promised," he whined weakly, dropping his hands; a defeated sigh escaping his lips.

"You don't know what happened," Stan quipped back, huffing some when familiar, though they hadn't been heard in a while, footfalls crunched through the snow.

Turning around, the bright orange scarf was wrapped tight around Kenny's' face, blue eyes pierced Stan's' above the hunched shoulders.

"Ken?" The buzzed teen breathed as the towering duo males stared surprised.

The blonde didn't respond, just took his old spot beside Stan, pulling out his phone and started scrolling through some random internet site.

Tears unwilling fell from Stan's eyes, who hurriedly wiped them away. It wasn't unseen by Cartman who just had to make a rude comment about it. "Dude, no need to be so damn gay about him joining us."

Which got him the obligatory elbow in the side and the duo got into it, yet again.

Ignoring the duo, when San realized that Kenny was on his phone, he realized he hadn't checked his own.

Pulling out his own phone, he saw he had six unread texts and opened them. One was from Kyle, again bitching about something, this time it was about his mother, but the other 5 were from the unknown number, though it was safe to assume it was Kenny.

'What?'

"Are you drunk? You're at least home right?'

'Look, I'm going out on a limb here about what you're saying. And it's a long ass story, and I thought at least you'd understand more than the other guys. You always understood me more than the other guys, especially Cartman, more than they ever could. I don't hate you…but I'm tired of being invisible.'

Those were all from last night.

'are you alright Stan? I'm really worried about you. If you don't answer I'm going to show up and give you so much hell if you're hung over.'

He had to snort at that, what if he didn't respond and was sober?

Well, the message that instigated all this made that impossible.

He felt it was time to respond, even if it was late. 'You're cute when you're worried,' he glanced over to see that Kennys ears tinted pink.

'You're an ass. I barely slept worrying about you. But we're talking. Lunch, by the gym.'

Flinching a bit, the playful smile dropped when his stomach knotted.

'Alright. You talk. Tell me what we did wrong and I'll listen,' he corrected, barely hearing Kenny sigh.

"I missed you too," was barely caught above the wind.

Can I just say that I hate people who quit their jobs without a 2 week notice?

We had 2 people do that within a month; hence why this update took me so long. I've been working overtime for nearly 2 weeks; one shift was a 12 hour one (and I'm only suppose to work 8).

But here we go, things are picking up and soon I'll have chapter 5 out.


	5. The Talk

With each impending tick of the clock, the knots continued to grow. Sure, alcohol could clear it away with a wave of fire, but Kenny deserved his unhindered ears.

Mash could barely pay attention to Mr. Elroys dulcet tones about some equation or another. The slowly tocking hands inched closer and closer to what Stan perceived as his doom.

As soon as the bell dung, Stan hurried out and towards the gym.

His stomach was full of contorting snakes, he wouldn't be able to eat anything any time soon.

Standing nervously by the door, he watched a lot of people leave swiftly, chatting excitedly about something or other.

Blue eyes sought out the dirty blond hair, bouncing on his feet nervously. He didn't see it until nearly everyone was in the cafeteria.

Kenny walked up to Stan, shoulders up as if he was trying to burrow his way into his jacket. "Hey Stan, didn't think you'd show," he commented nervously.

"Of course I would. I want to hang with you again," Marsh stated in false bravado. "I wouldn't screw this up for anything."

Nodding, the small male tugged Stan into the gymnasium. "It's more private," he explained when Stan made a noise.

Both bags hit the laminated wood as Kenny ran his fingers through his hair pacing, the noirette watching and waiting. He wouldn't press Kenny, unless time was running out.

"Okay, well," he sighed heavily. "I guess first thing is that, well, I care for you. I really do, but you're constantly up Kyles ass. Like, really, any further and you two would merge. And then I would find out that you guys would go on adventures and say like 'oh all my friends are here' yet I'm not there. And this went on for years," his pacing increased as he bit his lip.

"I would get left behind, expected to follow along, get asked to do the stupidest jobs because I'm the poor kid who just wants a buck," he whirled, fire in his eyes and pointed. "Cartman said that a lot."

All the noirette did was hold up his hands, unable to say a word with how hard his chest ached.

"I'm tired of it. I'm a person too. I have feelings," it was getting hard to understand the blond through the onslaught of tears that he was fighting back. "I'm valid Stan, but you guys made me feel worthless. Replaceable. I'm not."

What could he say to that? There were no words that came to mind and seeing how broken _they_ made Kenny feel was the most soul crushing feeling this teenager felt.

It was worse than any break up he and Wendy went through. More than when he fought with Kyle.

 _They made Kenny feel worthless._

"It's no wonder you don't want to hang with us…" Stan finally spoke after a long pause, he didn't even feel the tears that had started to fall during Kennys' speech. "I wouldn't want to be around that either."

They continued to stay there for a while, Stan staring at Kennys scuffed shoes.

"I can't promise anything Ken…but thank you for telling me," Stan barely managed to get out through a swollen throat.

Kenny nodded some, unable to say anything. Instead, he picked up his backpack and headed out of the gym. If there was a way to fix this, he didn't know.

With the click of the door, Stan collapsed and covered his mouth.

How? How could he do that to his friend? One of his closest friends?!

Grabbing his bag, he ran to the bathroom and started throwing up. While it burned, he kept heaving the nothingness that was his stomach.

Damn he was going to need a drink after this.

And he did.

The flask in his backpack quickly downed after his sick was in the toilet. And he leaned against the lockers, not about to move any time soon.

And he didn't care who saw him like this. He was trash and would always be trash and wanted the town to know that too.


	6. Don't Blame Yourself

Stan stayed there through many classes, hiding in the stalls whenever someone came in. He couldn't face anyone, and no one should have to face him either in this state.

It wasn't until the last class that Kyle finally found him, apparently having skipped in order to hunt for his best friend.

"Stan what-?" the red head breath hitched, knelt in front of him in worry, tilting his head up as he fretted.

As he feared, Stan was a complete disaster, eyes red and raw and alcohol tainting his breath.

"What happened between you and Kenny?" he demanded, pulling Stan up to wash his face at least.

"It's our fault. He left because of us," he hiccupped, leaning heavily against Kyle.

Kyle blinked, tugging Stan closer. "Really? Are you sure?"

"It makes sense! You're paying more attention to Carman than anyone else, even me!" he sobbed, even as he punched at Kyle; missing completely.

"You two seemed to-" the red head tried to defend himself, not realizing how much he had been hurting Stan and Kenny.

"I was always trying to make sure you two wouldn't kill each other!" Stan lamented heavily and clutched weakly at Kyle.

"Oh…" the Jew hadn't seen Stan so distraught since his mother died and it really pulled at the heartstrings.

But what was he supposed to do?

Now that he thought about it, it had been several months since he had a proper conversation, before the blonde left, with him. Now Stan was a complete disaster on he had no idea how to fix it.

"Stan, let's get'cha to my place and clean you up."

"I have soccer-"

"There's no way in hell you're playing like this."

"Coach is going to kick me," he hiccupped as the tears never ceasing.

Not saying what immediately came to mind the red head clenched his jaw. "Come on."

Letting himself be man handled out of the school, using the back door of the gymnasium so no one would see Stan like this.

He's now Stan for ages, trying to figure out how he was going to save Stan from himself.

Well for one, he was going to have to have a chat with Kenny. He was both pissed and upset that neither of them had known that they were treating him like that. That he felt so ignored.

He was pissed that he sent Stan into this spiral of self-loathing. Even if Kenny was upset, he shouldn't have done that to Stan.

All three of them knew of his drinking habit.

Once he had gotten Stan back to his own house, he drug his best friend up to the bathroom. "How much did you drink?" He nearly demanded as he lifted him into the tub.

"I dunno," he whined as Kyle started to strip him, hoping a cold shower would still help sober him up.

"Ugh, not helpful," he whined in a grunt before turning on the cold water and letting it wash over the noirette who had made himself a ball in the corner of the tub already.

"I'm going to get you some clothes, try to sober up," he half demanded and went into his bedroom.

Pulling out his cellphone, he attempted to call Kenny, being denied as it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey Ken, its Kyle. Look, I know we haven't talked in a while but we need to talk asap. Stan's a mess, he got himself drunk at school and I have him in my tub now. He didn't tell me much, but look. You knew he had a problem and did this? Really? And why didn't you tell us sooner about how you were feeling? We aren't mind readers ya know?" his voice was venomous as he left this message. "I'm going to swing by once I know Stan won't do something stupid. You better be home."

Stan was lying in bed, clutching a pillow with three blankets covering him from the noise of the world. Kyle did one last check before heading out and going towards the train tracks.

His mind was whirring with what he wanted to talk to Kenny about. First thing was defiantly about how he left Stan like that. The other was why he didn't tell them. He figured the other would probably be about his vigilantly duty.

"For fucks sake, why is this happening now," he ran his fingers through his messy hair. He desperately wanted to just be home doing his homework and studying for the midterms that were fast approaching, but no, he was walking to Kennys' house about to rip him a new one for Stans' sake.

That was until he knocked on the door and Kenneth opened the door with red eyes.

Words died in his throat and now he felt bad. "Ken…" he shifted nervously as shinning purple eyes looked down at the ground.

"I know. I'm sorry," his voice was quiet. "But I'm also not sorry. I told him how I felt like I promised and it got awkward. I'm not responsible for how he reacted, but I am sorry that he chose to start drinking so heavily."

Kyle chewed his lip as he thought this over. "Why didn't you tell us how you were feeling?" He decided instead to approaching from that angel.

"I…" he bit his lip. "None of you would pay attention when I talked." His voice fading out.

Kyle let out a small sigh and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry….what about your hero duties? Why are you still doing that?"

The blonde seemed to think it over for a long while. "It makes me feel powerful."

That was a valid reason he figured after how they treated him.

"I'm…I'm really sorry for treating you like that, Ken. Could…could you try to talk to Stan again? Please?" he nearly begged, maybe this would wake his best friend up.

"I'll…I'll try" his voice timid and Kyle sighed softly.

"Thank you…and you're right. It's not your fault," Kyle reached and patted his shoulder softly. "Don't blame yourself."


End file.
